


Where the hawthorn blooms

by missyvortexdv (Purpleyin), Purpleyin



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Betrayal, Dreams, Gen, Lucid Dreaming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-18
Updated: 2013-02-18
Packaged: 2017-11-29 16:25:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/689020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Purpleyin/pseuds/missyvortexdv, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Purpleyin/pseuds/Purpleyin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short ficlet about conflict between Morgana and Merlin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where the hawthorn blooms

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [when i'm small](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/17466) by wakingworld. 



> Spoilers: Up to end of S3.
> 
> A/N: Written having only seen up to S3 and having heard vague things of later seasons, so could be AU for all I know. Playing with the idea she can not only see visions in dreams but influence dreams.

He knows instantly he isn't awake. It isn't his dream either, more a nightmare of another's that is vivid in broad swathes. The green of the trees is bright, the wood of them darker than expected and the night not nearly so, the moon twice as bright as he's ever seen it.  
  
 _I thought we were the same_ , his voice echoes in the clearing though he has said nothing. They are words from a distant past, extracted from his memory. An invasion he feels all too calm about because he thinks they never should have been a secret.  
  
“In essence, yes”, Morgana replies as she steps in from the edge of his vision, from nowhere real. _But there are many paths in the forest Merlin and we're not walking the same one._ Her unspoken words whisper on the edge of his consciousness, like an undertone to the wind that whips the branches from the trees and her hair into her face.  
  
“We want the same thing.”  
  
“Once that was true. No more. We want our peace, our safety, very differently. Only one of us can get it.”  
  
"You're wrong," he tells her, resolute, as if he stands a chance to change her belief.  
  
Once we were the same. No more, he thinks. A shame he feels welling in the core of him, a wasted opportunity for an ally.  
  
He reads the words in reply from her mind like they are written on her skin, poised sternly as a fact displayed for him _: you shaped me with silence, wrest me with a poison, made me and remade me wrong._


End file.
